Renovations
by artichaud
Summary: Harry languishes within Grimmauld Place. Draco works in an unexpected industry. Everyone seems to have a secret. Angst, EWE, Plot, Substance Abuse, SLASH.


Renovations

Summary: Harry languishes within Grimmauld Place. Draco works in an unexpected industry. Everyone seems to have a secret. Angst, EWE, Plot, Substance Abuse, SLASH.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the trademarked property of J.K. Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended.

...

Chapter One

"Harry, you simply can't live like this any longer!"

Harry woke up to blinding grey light and the voice Hermione reserved for when she was entirely fed-up. She coughed as dust billowed from the moth-eaten drapes, and moved onto the next window, pouring more London gloom into the bedroom in a gallant attempt to add cheer. It was no use, the master bedroom of 12 Grimmauld Place was a mausoleum of the tortured and torturous souls who had inhabited it for centuries.

"It's nearly three in the afternoon, you know. What time did you get to bed last night?"

Harry blinked up at her and then rubbed at his eyes as he glanced unobtrusively around the stagnant room. Where had he left that bottle last night? "Hermione, please... I really _can't_ live like this any longer. You know you're always welcome over, but you can't just barge into my room. What if I had been naked or- or had company?"

He watched, victorious, as a blush crept up her neck. "Well I'd wager it was another lonely night, because you're still in yesterday's clothes."

He didn't think she had meant to sting, but the thoughtlessness was enough to make him squint at her as he sat up and swung his legs out of bed. "What do you want, Hermione? I'm on leave, I haven't got anything to do today, and Kreacher would rather I keep out of his way... If I want to have a lie-in, what's it to you?"

Hermione didn't answer at once as she surveyed the room (Harry discreetly nudged a bottle under the bedskirt with his foot), taking in the peeling wallpaper, stained rugs, and shabby furniture. When her eyes finally settled on him again they had softened with concern.

"We miss you, Harry. All of us. Molly still sets an extra spot for dinner in case you turn up. I know it's been hard for you, not working, but it's not going to right itself. If you carry on like this-"

"Carry on like what, exactly? And- and what do I need a job for anyway? It's not as though I'm hard up. And I don't think it's a stretch to say I deserve a little relaxation." Harry realized his voice had gotten louder and rolled his eyes, getting to his feet, "Listen, Hermione, I understand your concern and okay, I'll pick up a hobby or something so that I'm out of bed before noon. I'll have Kreacher teach me how to bake or I'll join a gobstones club or I'll... I dunno, start biking or something."

"Ron reckons you should-"

"I know what Ron reckons and I'm not interested," He said coldly before composing himself again. He put a hand on each of her shoulders and tried to summon a sincere expression. "I guess I'm just feeling a little blue over Ginny, still," he said, staring dramatically out the window behind her shoulder.

"Oh, Harry!" She exclaimed, pulling him in for a hug as he watched, head throbbing and stomach churning, the people on the street outside his window going about their mundane lives. "You know she still cares for you. She won't admit it, but I even think she still loves you and if you would just talk-"

Hermione suddenly tensed in his arms. He tore his eyes away from a boy on the street getting bullied by his older brother. Hermione was staring towards the bed he had begrudgingly abandoned, a hardness returning to her features.

"I thought you were done with that, Harry." He followed her line of vision. _Dammit_ , he had forgotten that he'd opened that second bottle last night! "You said it wasn't a problem. You said you would stop to- to show us! Is that what's really going on here? Oh god, here I am thinking, _believing you_ that you're still upset over Ginny. I know the real reason she left, you know!"

"Oh, fuck off, Hermione!"

She stomped across the room, plucked the bottle from his bed, and stomped into the ensuite as he inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. He leaned against the wall, listening to the remaining firewhiskey _glug glug glug_ down the sink as Hermione's muffled voice carried phrases like, "that explains a lot," and, "two whole years," to him.

He couldn't look at her when she emerged, but her voice was shaking as she said, "I know you've grown to hate being the hero after all these years. And I know you think that's all you're good at. But the truth is, you... you're rubbish at it! You're the bad guy now, Harry. You're the boggart. You're the dragon. And you can't even save yourself."

She spun away and was halfway out the bedroom door before she turned back around.

"You need to think about selling this house."

...

On the other side of the city, Dennis Creevey had stepped outside the office with a client, explaining the difference between interior and exterior window glamours.

"You see, we enchanted the outside of _these_ , the exterior, so that muggles can't see you doing magic within. It's completely different with the interior because the enchantment is for _your_ enjoyment. You can change the weather or even the scenery depending on how much you want to spend. Of course, we can perform both internal and external glamours if you happen to live in... say, Cardiff, where the weather is shite and you're surrounded by muggle neighbors."

The petite witch thought for a moment and said, "Just the exterior, I think. I rather like the rain. But tell me, do you come by and install new windows or do you enchant the ones I've got?"

He smiled to himself. Must be muggle-born. "Excellent question... If you're interested in altering the design of your windows, I handle all transfigurations-carpet to hardwood, change of paint, etcetera... Of course, with charms you have to make sure the spell will stick, so my partner handles all those. We've been in business for five years and he hasn't had to touch-up a job yet!"

"That's right, I'd forgotten," said the witch, glancing at the sign above the door, "Creevey & Associate... who's your partner then?"

"Oh, you probably won't ever meet him. The majority of his work has to be done while you're away from the home. For safety reasons, you know."

The witch nodded, apparently satisfied with the response. They stepped back inside to discuss cost and dates, and finally Dennis was left alone in the store.

It had been eight years since Colin had died, and there wasn't a day that went by in which Dennis didn't think about him. He wanted Colin to see the business he had built. He wanted Colin, also an artist, to be part of it. Their parents, bless them, would never be able to fully understand or appreciate the work he did, the revolutionary spells that had been developed to keep magic from disrupting the lives of muggles, the effort that went into discrete roof work.

He couldn't have done it alone. Not only was he incapable of giving voice to a mirror and inadequate at curse-breaking, but he wouldn't have had the money to fund a home design and renovation business in the first place.

They were an unlikely pair and they didn't always (or often) see eye-to-eye, but Dennis Creevey and Draco Malfoy made a good team.

...

A night later, Hermione apparated with a _crack!_ to the front door of the Burrow, the delicious aroma of Molly's white pudding wafting out of the open windows. It was still warm out, as September gave way to autumn in Devon.

Hermione and Ron had lived together for several years after she finished her training and began working in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures (or as she preferred to refer to it as, the Department for the Respect and Cooperation of Magical Comrades). Even with the pull that notoriety had gained, her "radical" notions made it difficult to effect change in the department. So she had moved back to Hampstead with her parents to focus on her studies in Magical Law.

At least, that was the reason she gave everyone.

"Hermione, dear! We were just wondering where you were," shouted Mrs. Weasley from within.

Hermione heard the scraping of a chair and a moment later her fiance swung the door open, greeting her with an ear-to-ear grin and a kiss on the cheek. She followed him inside as he apologized to the groaning kitchen for having to start a story over. They were a small group tonight, just Molly, Arthur, George, Ron, and herself.

"'Mione's got to hear this one. You'll really get a kick out of it. Willy Wilkinson, up in York, alerted us to a funny postman who was visiting muggle homes in his neighborhood..." Hermione smiled generously as she felt her eyes already glazing over. Ron was adorable with all his "thrilling" stories from work, but she had little interest in them herself. So she let her mind wander as she nodded occasionally, remembering a conversation from two years ago.

Ginny had been pacing in her hotel room at the Leaky Cauldron. "It's not all the time, though. We can have a few beers at dinner and it's fine! We laugh, chase each other around the house, have kinky sex... Oh, calm down, it's not like you and my brother aren't doing it."

Hermione unwrinkled her nose and stayed on topic. "Well, then he just needs to cut back. We all get a little sloppy from time to time."

"When have you ever gotten sloppy? And anyway," Ginny threw her arms up in exasperation, "It's much more than that. He gets mean. Cruel, even. He picks fights and, you know me, I have to defend myself. So we get in these circular screaming matches and... Merlin, I don't even want to tell you."

"Tell me what?" Hermione remembered holding her breath, not wanting to hear any worse about her best friend. Ginny stopped pacing.

"He- he reached for his wand, Hermione."

Hermione felt the blush drain out of her face as she stared into Ginny's eyes. "He what?"

The younger woman tore her eyes away. "I know, I know. He was really drunk so he wouldn't have stood a chance in a dual... but it's the point."

"I can't believe it."

"I disarmed him straight away and packed my things. Left him there throwing bottles at the walls and calling me names. But I've had enough."

"Of course, I understand entirely," Hermione furrowed her brow, trying to reconcile the person she had known since she was eleven with the monster Ginny had just described. "But, we can get him some help. You don't need to throw away your relationship until we've tried-"

"Yes, Hermione, _my_ relationship. I _have_ tried. I've tried so many times in the past six years. He has gone to wizard and muggle programs and couldn't stick to any of them. I can't do it anymore. My career is suffering from it. Have you seen my stats lately?"

That was what Hermione had thought their meeting would be about, actually. Ron had mentioned the rumors that Ginny would be dropped from the Holyhead Harpies. But she'd been surprised when Tom the barman sent her up to a room.

Ginny hadn't cried, but Hermione stayed the night with her anyway, not ready to go home to Ron and decide what to tell him. When it finally came out that Ginny and Harry were breaking up, no one knew the details, only that Harry liked to drink and party, which didn't suit Ginny's lifestyle.

"...Old Willy opens up the door to him, particularly suspicious because he doesn't receive muggle post, and next he knows he's-"

Hermione snapped back to the present, "Listen I need to discuss something with all of you."

Ron looked put out by the interruption. Molly stopped laying plates on the table and wiped her hands on her apron, the only one to catch Hermione's expression.

"It's about Harry..."

Molly's eyes slid to the table setting next to George. "What about him, dear?"

"I visited him yesterday and he's-"

 _Crack!_

They all looked at each other for a moment before a voice outside said, "That smells heavenly, Molly!"

"Harry!" Squealed Molly, rushing to the door and flinging it open. He was overdressed for the casual meal, as well as the weather. "We were just talking about you!"

Harry's eyes slid to Hermione and his smile didn't reach his eyes, "Were you?"

Hermione felt heat rise up her neck, cursing her transparency, but recovered quickly, "I was just about to tell you all that I think it's time to find Harry a new place to live. Grimmauld Place is too big for him to care for on his own."

Molly nodded, having said as much many times before.

George was scandalized, "Get rid of a big house like that? You're barking, Hermione. It's a bachelor pad! Mate, I'd move in with you if things weren't going so well with Angelina." Arthur chuckled, but was quelled by a glance from Molly.

"You could move to the Burrow with me," said Ron excitedly. "At least until you find something else. Or we could get a place together until Hermione is done with school."

"I really appreciate your concern, Hermione," it could not have been clearer that he did _not_ appreciate it, "but I won't be moving. Sirius left that house to me-"

"Sirius hated that house and you know it!"

"-and I intend to make it my own," Harry continued, ignoring, as no one else could, Hermione's exclamation. "In fact, I want to fix it up."

"Oh, Harry dear, we tried that years ago, remember?" said Molly, squeezing a plate of pud in front of him before sitting down with her own plate. "Even in the times of the Order it was run-down and, well... a bit eerie."

Hermione was watching Harry closely and noticed that his hands shook and his forehead was beaded with sweat as he seated himself at the table. His eyes and speech, however, were clear.

"I want to do more this time. I want to strip away all traces of Sirius's family and turn it into a place he would have liked to live." He grinned widely at George. "A bit like a bachelor pad."

Even Molly laughed at that, although she did glance at her clock, perhaps checking that Ginny was still far away in training. Ron put his hand on Hermione's leg and began wolfing down his dinner. The idea was interesting to Hermione, who like everyone else, always had felt a change of atmosphere when stepping into Grimmauld Place. Would a renovation be able to wash away the bad memories held by that house?

"You know," said Arthur thoughtfully, fork mid-way to his mouth. "Every so often my department is contacted by a company that does work on wizarding homes. For details that might affect a surrounding muggle community, you see. Bewitching wind chimes or door knockers. Magical gardens... that sort of thing. I'll see if I can send the young man an owl tomorrow. What do you say, Harry?"

Harry smiled at Hermione again and though it was tight, it also was genuine, as if to say _I'm trying_. "Sounds great, Arthur."

Perhaps it could wait, Hermione decided. Maybe she could keep his secret a little while longer. She had her own to contend with.

...

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